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By the ti Davis ca out of the bathroom, Jessica had already gone downstairs to retrieve their dinner.

It had been set earlier in the dining hall, but because of the lengthy therapy session, they hadn’t been able to eat at the usual ti. Now, balancing the tray in her hands, Jessica carefully made her way back upstairs to their room.

anwhile, Davis sat on the edge of the bed, feeling strangely refreshed. His leg, which had been sore and trembling from the intense therapy session, now felt surprisingly flexible and light.

The usual numbness and pain were gone. Instead, he felt calm, peaceful and rejuvenated.

His brow furrowed in thoughtfulness and wondering. "How does she always do this?" he muttered to himself.

"After therapy, I should be sore and drained. But it’s the opposite." He mused, though she had always warned him that it will be painful yet she will make sure at the end he felt much better and relieved.

He glanced down at his leg and flexed his foot slightly. There was no discomfort. Just relief. It wasn’t the first ti he’d noticed this.

Every ti she treated him, whether through therapy or those special baths she prepared, he always ended up feeling better. Relaxed. Lighter. More hopeful.

He made a ntal note to ask her what exactly she usual adds to the bath water. Whatever it was, it worked wonders not only on his body but on his spirit too. With a smile tugging his lips, he retrieved the bathrobe she had prepared for him earlier.

Just then, the door creaked open. Jessica walked in, holding the tray of food carefully. She entered quietly, trying not to spill anything.

Her steps were light and soft, and she moved with natural grace.

She walked to the side table, set the tray down, and turned around to tell Davis that dinner was ready.

But the words got stuck in her throat.

Her breath caught as her eyes landed on Davis. He was sitting with his back to her, struggling to put on his bathrobe.

The warm glow from the ceiling light cast a soft shine across his broad, tanned shoulders and well-toned muscles. His back was strong, sculpted, and completely bare.

Jessica froze in place. A blush crept up her cheeks. Her eyes widened slightly, sparkling with awe. Her body refused to move, no matter how hard she tried to look away. Her gaze was locked on him.

"Wow..." she thought, swallowing hard. Her thoughts began to swirl wildly.

How would it feel to be carried on that back?What would it be like to be held in his arms, lifted bridal-style?

It suddenly made sense to her why his embrace always felt firm, steady, and secure. Those strong arms weren’t just from his past life—they were still very real now.

For the first ti, Jessica felt regret that Davis was in a wheelchair. Not because she pitied him, but because she wanted to experience those thoughts. She wished she could try it out now but can’t.

She was curious—no, desperate—to know how it would feel. To be wrapped up in those arms, lifted effortlessly like she was precious.

Right then, she made a secret promise to herself. The first gift I’ll take for myself the mont he can stand... is to ask him to give a piggyback ride.

That one wish made her smile slightly.

Her mind began to wander, far away from the present mont. It drifted toward a hopeful future—one she quietly dread of but never spoke out loud. Like scenes from a film, her imagination painted vivid pictures before her eyes.

Slowly, like a projector playing scenes of a movie clip Jessica fell into her imaginative dream;

The sun was setting casting it’s golden hue over the sky, it’s reflective strokes blending into bright colours. She was piggy backed by Davis, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her legs dangling at his sides.

He walked slowly through a beautiful flower-filled path, the petals swaying gently in the breeze. Her chestnut hair fluttered freely in the wind, her laughter ringing out into the warm air as he carried her as though she was light as a feather.

At the rush and rustle of the wind, She spread her arms wide as he walked, like a child she enjoyed the rush of wind and freedom. In that mont, they were alone in the world—just the two of them. No pain, no past, no fear.

While that scene withered away into a distant mory, another scene played out; Davis stood tall, no longer in a wheelchair, he towered above her. His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a tight hug.

Then, he bent slightly and kissed her gently under the golden sunlight, the rays casting soft hues over them as birds soared in the background bearing testant.

Her heart ached with longing as she imagined them standing in a world filled with warmth, laughter, and love. She felt at peace.

Like a child, She saw herself running through a vast field of colorful flowers, laughing freely. Davis chased behind her, her na rolling out of his tongue in a playful tease. Their smiles and laughter echoing into the distance borne by the gentle breeze, happy and full of joy. The windmill spun lazily under the setting sun.

There she was in another scene, they were working out together in the morning, challenging each other, pushing limits.

Fine beads of sweat dotted their faces, happily they took turns wiping it from each other’s brows. Her laughter sweet amd delicate as she laughed at Davis who missed a step, pointing out his flaw with a teasing smile. They atmosphere warm and accommodating like lovers with no burden.

She never expected herself a fan of height difference though trusting her height but then she found herself comparing their heights. She stood on her toes, still couldn’t match his height. That made her laugh. "Don’t you think this is unfair?" her voice echoed eliciting a playful chuckle from him "why don"t I carry you up?" His tone teasing and playful rang in her ears.

Her lips curled up at the sweet mory without her realizing. Her eyes twinkled, full of warmth and longing. The glow on her face bright —she was lost in her own world. Her heart danced to the rhythm of dreams and possibilities.

Davis, sitting in his wheelchair, slowly turned and noticed her expression. She was smiling beautifully, deeply lost in thought. Her eyes shimred with brightness, and her lips ford a soft curve.

She wasn’t present in the room—she was sowhere far away, sowhere joyful.

He stared at her for a mont, his heart clenching slightly as a bitter smile ford on his lips.

"She must be thinking about soone special," he thought to himself. "Soone who made her laugh brightly... soone she cherishes." His gaze dropped. "It’s not . I’m not the one in those mories."

From the mont she t , I had been nothing but a burden. A man stuck in a wheelchair. She had to push , prepare my bath, care for , protect and even had to stand up for .

What kind of happy mory could that possibly be? What kind of happiness will she feel when burdened this much?

Her smile... it wouldn’t be for him. He mourned in his heart.

"I want to change that," he thought with quiet desperation. "I want to walk beside her. I want to make her laugh, lively and careless....just because it’s . I want to be part of her good mories. No... I want to be the best part of them."

He took a deep breath and steadied himself.

"I just hope... she doesn’t give up on . I hope she keeps holding on. I hope she gives the chance to give her sothing worth rembering."

His chest tightened again, but he forced a calm expression. He didn’t want to ruin her peaceful mont. No matter how bitter he felt inside, he would keep it to himself.

After a few seconds, he rolled his wheelchair over and called softly, "Jessica."

The gentle sound of his voice broke her out of her trance.

She gasped lightly, her heart skipping a beat. Her eyes t his for just a second before she quickly looked away, embarrassed.

Her face turned red, and she wanted to slap herself. She couldn’t believe she had drifted so far into her daydream.

A cold shiver ran down her spine as she realized she had been caught.

Davis, seeing her flustered expression, couldn’t help but tease her. A mischievous smile played on his lips.

"You were smiling and daydreaming just now. What’s going on in that head of yours?" he asked lightly. "Don’t tell ... you have a crush on ?" While a voice sneered at him in his hand but then he suppressed the thought.

Jessica’s eyes widened in shock. Her face turned an even deeper shade of red.

She looked completely stunned.

Davis chuckled softly, his heart a little lighter.

Maybe... just maybe, he thought, I was the one in her dream after all.

You are reading Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption Chapter 167: Her rich Imagination, His Sorrow on novel69. Use the chapter navigation above or below to continue reading the latest translated chapters.
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